Flesh & Blood
by gibbonsarenotmonkeys
Summary: After James tells Shepard what it'll take for him to forget she's his Commander, she goes to bed alone, but she doesn't stay that way for long. Re-write of the Citadel DLC 'romance' with James Vega, fluffy fic featuring Shega. Possible spoilers!
1. The After Party

**A/N:** Short fic, re-writing the horrific so-called 'romance' with James from the Citadel DLC. Might do a follow up? Leave me a review if you'd like to see more, I'm so hooked on Shega right now it's not even funny.

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The room was spinning and the lights seemed to be blurring together by the time Shepard fell into her bed, a mass of warm, fluffy blankets that felt more like a cloud than a bed. She was just curling into the sweet embrace of oblivion when she felt the mattress shift, a heavy body falling into bed next to her.

She didn't move, just clutched the comforter possessively, hoarding her fluffy blankets from whoever was joining her. The bed was big enough for two, her sleepy mind decided, and having slept in a military cot since she was eighteen, she only ever occupied half of the bed anyway. It wasn't until she felt an arm, coiled with thick muscles and attached to an equally muscular body that pressed against her back, that she felt she had to do anything. She knew that body; knew the way if felt when it pressed into her back right before she flung it onto the cargo bay floor, knew the heady scent of gun oil and sweat.

"Stop it, James." Her voice was soft, words slurred slightly from the alcohol, and she shifted her body, trying to pull away but only making it collide with the marine. His lips found her neck, and she growled, then drove her elbow back into his solar plexus. "I said, stop." The words were slow with alcohol, but the action had the desired result and he gasped sharply, withdrawing from her and rolling onto his back, far enough away for her to curl back onto her side and close her eyes.

"Shit, Shepard! I thought... I thought you wanted this?" He managed after a moment, breathing still short. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, even from here. Or was that the alcohol on her breath? She wasn't quite sure.

Shepard snorted indignantly. "Not if you have to get drunk just to touch me." She managed, opening her eyes and staring into the darkness. He was still behind her, lying flat on his back, his breathing heavy. "I want you to want me." Her voice was soft again, wistful, her eyelids fluttering softly closed.

"Dios, Lola... I do want you." He spoke to the ceiling, not daring to touch her again. "It's just... y'know, you're... you."

"Yeah, I know." She laughed, but it wasn't the sound he had grown accustomed to. It wasn't a happy laugh, or an amused one, or even a sarcastic laugh. It was bitter, and drunk, coarse and painful to his ears. "I'm Commander Fucking Shepard, and I'm not even human enough to fuck."

"S'not like that." He protested softly, alcohol making his voice weak. "What if I'm not enough for you?" He murmured softly, almost inaudibly.

"You worried I'm gonna think you're bad in bed?" She didn't sound amused, and he ran a hand back through his short hair. He wasn't saying this right.

"Nah, that ain't it. Dios." He covered his face with his hands. "I want you, Lola, and not just for some once-in-a-lifetime night. I want you every night, I want to wake up next to you every morning, I want to make you breakfast and take you to the movies and go out dancing with you on my arm."

"Sounds nice," she rolled over, still curling on her side but now she was curled in towards him instead of away, although she still didn't touch him. "If that's what you want, how come you always turn me down?" Her voice was suddenly all innocence, and James had trouble swallowing the lump in his throat so he could answer.

"Cause if I have a taste, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it when you're done with me." He said after a moment, a part of him unable to believe he was actually saying the words, but the larger part too drunk to care.

"You think I just want to get laid." It wasn't a question, but she sounded sad.

"No, I mean..." He groaned, dropping his hands from his face and turning towards her. "I'm not saying this shit right." He waited for her to say something, but when she didn't, he felt like he had to say something, so he kept going. "I just don't see how someone like you could be happy with someone like me."

"Someone like me? What's that s'poosed to mean?"

"There's no way I can measure up." He shook his head. "You're... well, you beat Saren -Sovereign, whoever. Then the Collectors. You have all these crazy talented people hanging off your every word, willing to die for you! And you can hit a moving target from like a million yards, and you're gonna beat the Reapers, too." He listed things off, his voice wavering slightly, and Shepard gave another one of those indignant snorts.

"God, I love it when you talk about me like I'm some kind of hero." She murmured, nuzzling her pillow sleepily. "That's why I love you. You always believe in me, even when I don't believe in myself."

He blinked, unsure he'd heard correctly. That was the alcohol talking, right? Because Commander Shepard couldn't possibly have just admitted that she loved him. Or she meant it platonically, the way she loved everybody on her squad. Surely, if tonight had been proof of anything, it had been proof that Shepard loved the people under her command.

"But... you are a hero. And I'm just some lowly marine who had the good luck to stumble onto your radar." His voice was full of self-loathing, and made Shepard's brow furrow defensively. Nobody talked about her lieutenant that way, not even himself.

"You are not. You're a damn good soldier, James, and you work hard to be one. You follow orders when given, and make good decisions when they're not. You're tough as hell and stronger than a fucking krogan and you're smart, too, although god knows you don't act like it sometimes." Her words were forceful, pushing into his head despite the haze of alcohol, and he found himself rolling onto his side to look into her face, shaded as it was by the darkness of her bedroom. "If you don't believe that, then you're dumber than I thought, 'cause you of all people ought to know that I don't take anyone but the best on my squad."

He didn't have an argument for that, and just stared at her, still dumbfounded. "I still don't get why you would want me."

Shepard laughed, and he relaxed slightly at that sound. It was her flirty laugh, the one she used whenever he tried to flirt with her, when she was about to say something really raunchy. "Aside from your hot body?" She teased in her flirty tone, before she got that serious look back in her eyes. "But that's not why I like you. And I do like you -like you, like you, in the preschool way." She giggled drunkenly, and he could feel her shift closer to him on the mattress. "You know the last time someone gave me a nickname? I don't know either, 'cause ever since I enlisted, I've been nothing but Shepard. Then you show up, and suddenly I'm Lola. Hot but tough Lola, and you check out my ass when you think I'm not looking, and you patch me up on missions when I'm too hocked up on adrenaline to notice I'm bleeding. You don't pull your punches when we spar, and you make me smile, with your stupid flirting and your dumb jokes, even when everything else makes me want to scream. You make me feel normal, and at the same time, you still have this... I dunno. Unwavering faith that I can do this, even when I do something wrong. You're the only one on the whole damn ship who I can always count on to have hope, to believe that we can win this thing, to give me hope when I feel adrift." She rambled slightly, but James was so caught up in her words that he didn't dare interrupt, and when she finished, he stared at her for a long moment, soaking it in.

"That's what you think of me?" His words were slightly wonder-filled, in awe that someone like Shepard could think so much of him.

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

Without warning, he leaned in towards her and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was sloppy, drunken, and unexpected, but just for a moment, Shepard kissed him back. Right before she shoved him roughly back and punched him in the jaw. "I SAID STOP!" She roared, and he couldn't help but laugh, rolling onto his back and holding a hand to his jaw, his huge body shaking with laughter. "If you keep that up I'm not gonna let you sleep here." Her alcohol-addled slur had returned, and she rolled over again, curling on her side.

James blinked at the ceiling. "If I behave, I can stay?"

"Uh-huh." She repeated the sound, already sounding like she was falling asleep. "Just keep your pants on, and no more kissing." She drawled softly.

Experimentally, he moved closer, rolling onto his side behind her, he placed a hand on her waist. Shepard made a soft noise, but didn't protest, so he slid it around her gently, pulling her body flush against him. She shifted slightly, making herself comfortable in his embrace, but didn't try to move away. "This okay?" He murmured in her ear, just to be sure.

"Yeah, James, it's okay." She answered sleepily, before she added, "but if you want to, you can take your shirt off, y'know." He chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose against her hair affectionately. "I like it when you take your shirt off." Her voice was distant, and he was sure now that she was drifting off to sleep.


	2. The Morning After

Shepard awoke to bright sunlight streaming in the windows, so bright that it made her hiss as she blinked, turning her face into the pillow as though to bury it. That was when she realized that her head was not lying on a pillow at all, but the warm, pliant chest of her lieutenant. Her eyes fluttered open, glancing up at him with a mixture of hesitance and uncertainty on her face.

"Ey, Lola," he groaned, and she became aware of the hand resting on her hip, cradling her against his side. At some point during the night, they'd moved from spooning to cuddling, although Shepard couldn't remember exactly when that had happened. She sat up slowly, easing her way out of his arms and lifting her hand to rub her forehead.

"Well, this is awkward." She rested her elbows on her knees, propping her forehead in her hands and breathing deeply.

"I can take my shirt off now, if you think it would help." James teased, pushing himself up onto his palms.

Shepard smiled, suppressing her laugh and trying to force a cross expression. "So that's it, then? We're just gonna pretend this didn't happen and go back to flirting like before?" She turned to look at him over her shoulder, only to have her concentration broken when she saw him pulling his t-shirt off over his head. "What are you doing?" She demanded, trying not to blush.

"You told me last night that you like it when I take my shirt off." He grinned, tossing his shirt at her playfully. It hit her dumbfounded face before falling onto the bed.

"You mean to tell me that before last night, you didn't realize that?" She rolled her eyes, then flopped back onto the bed next to him, looking up at him with disbelief.

"Well... I mean I had my suspicions..." He shrugged, rolling his shoulder and making his muscles ripple oh-so-enticingly.

Shepard laughed softly. "Damnit, why do you have to be so cute?"

"Cute?" He turned towards her, hurt and outrage mingling on his face. "Lola, I ain't cute." He told her firmly, only making her giggle again.

"God, when you blush and stammer like an awkward kid on prom night? Adorable." She persisted, teasing him gleefully.

"I don't do that!" He insisted, but when it didn't stop her giggling, he glared at her, and in a moment of spontaneity, he planted his palsm on either side of her head, moving over to straddle her on the bed. "I'm not adorable." He growled, watching as her eyes widened and her giggles evaporated.

"Not from this angle, you aren't." She agreed, her eyes flickering down to his shirtless torso appreciately. She shifted her hips in a way that made his eyebrows shoot up and color rise in his cheeks. "Aha, there's that blush again." She grinned with satisfaction.

"You trying to make this more awkward?" He asked with a shake of his head, trying to clear it.

"You're the one who took your shirt off, and then decided to climb on top of me." She pointed out, looking perfectly at ease as she lay beneath him. "Looks to me like you're in control from here."

"Bullshit, you and I both know you could toss me like a rag doll if you wanted to." He snorted, sitting back on his haunches, but still kneeling over her hips. She smirked.

"I don't know, you're pretty big. I might pull something." Shepard teased, her eyes tracing up his arms. "So, are you still drunk or did whatever I told you last night change your mind about something, Mr. Vega?" Somehow, she managed to make her voice all business-like, even when she was looking up at him from the flat of her back.

"I'm not drunk." He confirmed, making Shepard raise an eyebrow. "But... I wanna know if you meant what you said. Right now, kinda seems like you don't even remember what that was."

Shepard was silent for a moment, her eyes puzzled. "I seem to recall telling you that I like you."

"That's the part I'm struggling with." He pushed his hand back through his short hair.

Shepard frowned up at him. "Why do you have so much trouble believing that?" When he didn't answer, only glanced away uncomfortably, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the better to meet his gaze. "You spend so much time flirting with me, you don't think there's anyway that it might have worked?"

"It's not like that... I told you, it's just my way."

"Uh-huh, you did, but I've never seen you flirt with the other women on the crew the way you flirt with me."

"It's just easy with you. Natural, y'know?"

"I do know, it just clicks." She nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's fun, and it makes me smile. You make me smile, you make me forget that we're in the middle of a war, that lives depend on my every decision, that if I make one mistake, the world ends. Literally." There was a haunted look in those emerald eyes of hers that made his heart ache, that made him want to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. "You're the only one that does that."

"I didn't know... I mean, I thought you were just playing with me. You're friendly with everyone on the crew. And besides, there's the regulations to consider..."

Shepard sighed, lifting her hands to her face and dropping from her elbows back onto the bed. "I know about the regs, okay? I do. And I know I should care. But..." She slid her hands down her face, looking up at him guiltily. "I don't, okay? This war could be the end of us all, and I've only ever cared about my career, and I don't want to feel bad because I finally found someone I want more than I want a new upgrade for my rifle."

He chuckled softly. "You really love that damn rifle, don't you?"

"The Black Widow is my baby, you'll never take her place, you need to understand that." She managed to keep a straight face, and he shook his head.

"So... this is real? It ain't just you needing someone to get off with?" He hesitated, but there was something hopeful in his tone.

"Please, James, that's what my collection of Hanar-shaped vibrators is for." She almost managed to keep a straight face, but his look of incredulity broke her, and she burst into giggles. "I'm kidding! But I'm serious about you. I want you, for more than just your hot body. So... can we try?" The way she bit her lip, looking up at him all hopeful, he didn't know how anyone could say no.

"Hell yeah, we can try." Before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips that made her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down on top of her.

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**A/N:** The morning after! Again, just fluffy fluff. Might do a smutty follow-up? Leave a review and let me know whether you prefer more fluff (maybe a date?) or something a bit more raunchy... or some of both! And concrit is, of course, also welcome!


	3. The Aftermath

"Lola, what'd you do with my shirt?" James asked, pulling his boots on.

"Shirt? What shirt?" Shepard's tone was all innocence as she pulled her long, dark hair back and up. She was sitting up on the bed while James stood up, hunting around the room for his missing shirt. "I don't think you had one of those when you came in here." She smirked, putting a few hair pins between her teeth while she twisted her hair up into her signature bun, adding pins as necessary to keep it in place.

"For real, Shepard." He sounded serious, but the mischief didn't leave her eyes. He knelt down to check under the bed, knocking a few empty beer bottles aside.

"For real! I don't remember seeing a shirt on you at any point." She tried to keep a straight face as she finished putting up her hair. "Now, wasn't there talk about you making me breakfast?"

"Dios, how'd you manage to hide it? You haven't left this bed since I took it off." He sounded less upset than impressed.

"I'm an infiltrator, James. My skills are many and varied."

He sat up, climbing onto the bed and checking under the pillows. When he found nothing, he took her wrists, pinning them to the headboard with both of his, and settling over her lap. "I ain't letting you go until you give it back."

Shepard giggled, flexing her wrists a little to test his hold. "I didn't have you pegged for the kinky type, Vega."

He rolled his eyes, trying not to grin as he glowered down at her. "This ain't sexy, this is an interrogation."

"Mhm, is that so? You ought to know that I hold up remarkably well under torture." She raised an eyebrow, her tone slightly cocky. James grinned, and moved her wrists together over her head so he could hold both of her wrists with just one of his massive hands. The other skimmed over her stomach lightly, seeking out the hem of her shirt.

"You have one chance to tell me where it is. After that, you'll find no mercy." His tone was vaguely threatening, but only made Shepard steel her gaze. When she pursed her lips, he took it as a sign that she wasn't planning on giving in, and he lifted her shirt just to the bottom of her bra.

What he did next had Shepard shrieking... with laughter.

"Not... fair!" Shepard gasped out between laughs, kicking her feet and twisting her body in an effort to get away from him. "How the hell did you find out I'm ticklish?" She squirmed, bucking her hips desperately, trying to dislodge the giant man and his deceptively limber fingers.

"I have many skills, too. Are you gonna give in?"

"Never!" She hissed, pressing her body back against the headboard and trying to wrench her hands free. "Death first!" She growled, panting for breath as he continued his torture. But they both froze when they heard a low, raspy voice coming from behind them.

"Ugh, can't you primitives breed more quietly?" Javik was stooped in the doorway to the master bathroom, trying to focus a glare on them, but it seemed like standing was taking all the willpower he could muster. "As if there weren't enough of you in the galaxy already..." He grumbled, before his willpower failed, and he toppled over backwards onto the bathroom floor.

They both just stared at him during his outburst, neither one of them able to think of anything to say. Shepard wondered how long he had been in her bathroom, exactly, while James' cheeks colored at his comments about 'breeding'. A long moment after he passed out, Shepard sighed.

"I guess I have to go scrape the Prothean off my bathroom floor." She grumbled, easily pulling out of James' hold while he was distracted. He was still staring at Javik's feet poking out from the bathroom door when she dropped his tee-shirt over his head. "Go make me some eggs, yeah?" She told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before she scooted off the bed to deal with the drunken Prothean.

"You alright?" She nudged his booted foot with her toe, making Javik stir slightly. With the fall he'd taken, she was worried he might have hit something, so she crouched down beside him to check for damage.

"I had a dream... that the primitives had evolved... they ruled the galaxy, and the Reapers destroyed us all while they were busy copulating..." He groaned, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Shepard grinned, and decided that if he could ramble about her nocturnal activities, he couldn't have hurt himself too bad. She patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"At least we spent our last hours doing something we're good at."

He snorted derisively. "The only thing primitives are good at, it seems..."

Shepard rolled her eyes, getting up to leave him to sleep off his hang over on the bathroom floor. After nearly slipping on a few empty bottles on her way out the door, she found Garrus and Liara in the sitting area.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't our distinguished leader. Wasn't that little Jimmy I saw sneaking out of your room just now?" Garrus' smug voice was filled with innuendo, and Shepard smirked.

"Oh, believe me Garrus, there isn't anything 'little' about Mr Vega." She winked, her own tone matching his and making him laugh, and Liara wince.

"That is definitely more than I ever needed to know about the Lieutenant." Liara shook her head, closing her eyes as if to will the image away. Shepard chuckled, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze before she moved on. She didn't disturb Samara's meditations, and a cursory glance into the guest room found Tali curled up and lamenting her own existence, so she went downstairs, a bounce in her step despite the headache she could feel looming in the back of her skull, or the way every jolt of the steps made her stomach twist up a little bit more. She felt good, despite feeling terrible.

"Somebody's perky." She turned around on the bottom step, grinning when she saw Steve lounging in the living room. She joined him on the couch, and he gave her a knowing look. "I take it our arms master found his way into your bedroom after all?"

"And just what makes you so sure about that?" Her smile said that he wasn't wrong.

"The fact that, despite drinking more than just about anyone else last night, the two of you are glowing like the fourth of July." Shepard gave a meek little shrug that made him grin. "About time, too. I was getting damn sick of listening to him go on all the time... 'Lola this' and 'Lola that,' 'Lola has the best ass in the whole damn galaxy...'" He teased, and she giggled happily. "I've seen better." He shrugged, and Shepard frowned, giving him a light punch on the arm. He laughed it off before continuing. "So... not that I want to pry, or anything," Shepard snorted, because they both knew that was exactly what he was about to do, "but is this gonna be a real thing, or should I be concerned about having to mop up his man tears when he realizes he doesn't get to keep you?"

Shepard pursed her lips at him. "You do not need to worry about man tears. Well... not yet. I can't guarantee we're going to last forever, but we agreed to give this a try."

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, surprised, but he also looked kind of pleased. "So, the Commander has a boyfriend. Emphasis on the 'boy.'" Shepard punched him on the arm again, a little harder.

"Don't be jealous, Esteban."

"Not you too," he groaned, flopping back on the couch like a defeated toy. Shepard giggled, amused by his defeat.

"Shepard! Your eggs are getting cold! Ey, Lola!" James called out from the kitchen, and Shepard bounced lightly to her feet.

"That's my man now," she smiled happily. "I should go."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to keep him waiting." Steve grinned good-naturedly, waving her off.

Arriving in the kitchen to find Ashley, Miranda and Grunt gathered around the island where James was dutifully making enough eggs to kill a brute, she sidled up beside Ashley with a grin.

"Hey, Ash... you don't look so good." She teased, hip-checking her gently.

"I need a floor to curl up on." Ashley groaned, swaying on her feet slightly.

"Why don't you go lie down?"

"Vega swears that his eggs are a miraculous hangover cure-all... I doubt he's telling the truth, but at this point I'll try anything." She rubbed her temples, and Shepard glanced up at James, who smirked smugly in return.

"They haven't failed me yet." He nodded to a plate waiting before an empty stool, "Lola."

Taking the hint, Shepard slid onto the stool, eyeing her breakfast inquisitively. "Huevos rancheros?" She guessed.

"Just like my abuela used to make!" James grinned, watching as she took her first bite, and her face lit up.

"James, this is actually really good!"

"You sound surprised."

"I am! Who knew you could cook?" She laughed, digging into her breakfast with gusto. "I'm impressed, marine." She winked at him playfully, and he smirked smugly. "Miranda, you have got to try this." She nudged the genetically perfect woman with her elbow gently.

Miranda just shook her head, cradling her mug of tea possessively. "I think I'll stick with liquids for the time being, thanks."

"Suit yourself, it's your loss." Shepard shrugged, savoring her delicious eggs. Maybe he was right about them being a cure-all, because she was definitely starting to feel good... or maybe that was just because from here, she could watch the perfectly sculpted muscles of James' arms as he expertly tossed the eggs, adding spices to the sizzling pan like a pro. When he turned around to chop the vegetables, she found herself staring at his fine ass, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip. Shepard had never considered cooking a turn-on before, but considering her own skills in the kitchen were sorely lacking, she supposed it couldn't possibly be a bad thing to have a man that could cook.

When he turned around suddenly, she jumped, her eyes hastily meeting his and her cheeks coloring when she realized she'd been caught staring, but he just gave her a cocky grin. "You need seconds, Commander?" He glanced down at her plate, which she hadn't realized was empty.

"No... nope, I'm good. Other people need to eat too." She shook her head quickly, vacating the stool a little too quickly. "Grunt, baby, you hungry?" She asked the krogan, noticing he was dawdling around the side of the island.

"Not sure. I think I broke my head on something last night."

"Trying to get yourself a scar like Wrex's?" She teased, before going over to check on his cranium. "Where's it hurt?"

"Everywhere." He grunted as if it should be obvious.

"Well, I don't see anything damaged. Probably just had too much ryncol." She diagnosed, before standing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his forehead affectionately.

"Shepard!" He growled and swatted her away petulantly, but she anticipated it, dancing back and out of harm's way just in time, giggling. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Oh, hush. If you don't want to be kissed better, then don't complain about your boo-boos." She joked playfully, twirling around to hide behind Jame's bulk on the other end of the island. Grunt grumbled something unintelligible before he stalked off... probably to break something in retaliation. Teenagers.

"So if I get a boo-boo, you gonna kiss it better too, Lola?" James glanced at her, wearing a shit-eating grin.

"If you want kisses that badly, I'd be happy to inflict some 'boo-boos' for you, LT." Ashley answered before Shepard could, making both women laugh. James rolled his eyes, serving up Ashley's eggs without another word, and she made off into the living room to find somewhere more comfortable to eat. After an analytical glance between Shepard and Vega, Miranda sighed and followed.

Only once they were alone in the kitchen, Shepard slid closer to him. "So, you got anything you need me to kiss better?" She offered with a purr.

He glanced towards her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I burned myself a little cooking those eggs," he held up his hand for her to see. She didn't see any trace of a burn, but she leaned in to press a lingering kiss against the back of his hand anyway.

"Poor baby," she murmured, her voice husky as her eyes flickered up to his face. "But I think I see a worse injury... right... here..." She added, standing up on her toes, she kissed him on the lips, her eyes fluttering shut when she felt him return the pressure, his hand on the small of her back. She balanced her hands on his chest to steady herself, parting her lips-

"That can't be hygienic." They broke apart at the sound of Kasumi's lilting voice behind them, her glance moving between the pair of them and the pan of still-sizzling eggs on the stove. "I heard this was the place to come and get breakfast?" She said innocently, completely ignoring Shepard's glower as she took a seat on one of the stools, folding her hands in front of her expectantly.

With a sigh, Shepard stepped away from the beefy marine, gesturing for him to continue his work. "That's right, get ready for the best eggs on the Citadel."

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was fun to write, so let me know what you guys thought about it! And yes, Grunt IS actually Shepard's baby. Concrit welcome!


	4. The First Date

"...I love it." Shepard breathed as she looked at herself in the mirror, her gaze travelling from head to toe slowly. The dress Kasumi had acquired for her was long and black, made of some kind of soft, slippery material that seemed intent on running through her fingers like water everytime she tried to get a hold of it, and it had a high neckline like a tee-shirt and cap sleeves. Perfectly fitted, it hugged and accentuated her curves in all the right places, with a lace cutout on the back to show off just the right amount of skin. The skirt just brushed the tops of her feet, but a long slash along one side reached three quarters of the way up her thigh to allow mobility, and provided a tantalizing glimpse of the milky white skin of her leg. It swished around her pleasantly as she twirled in front of the mirror, smiling happily. "It didn't cost too much, I hope?"

"No, it didn't cost much at all." Kasumi answered too quickly, earning herself a sharp, knowing glance from the Commander. But after a moment's consideration, Shepard decided she wasn't going to let Kasumi's lack of morality ruin her evening, and she let it slide... for now. She could always lecture the thief tomorrow. After waiting a long moment for the scolding that didn't come, Kasumi smiled and continued. "Wait until you see the shoes."

Shepard spun around, her gaze following the thief to a silver box she'd set on a chair. "You got me shoes, too? I figured I'd just wear those pumps I got -oh, my."

She fell into silence when Kasumi pulled one of the shoes from the box, holding it out to her. They were blood red, made of shiny patent leather with a skinny little heel that was at least four inches tall.

"I don't know if I could even walk in those things." She murmured after a moment, her eyes still fixed on the heels with more desire than the military woman would ever admit.

Kasumi grinned. "We won't know until you try."

With an indulgent smile, Shepard took a seat on the bed, pulling the heels on with a smile. "I've never worn heels this high before." She admitted, as if that wouldn't be obvious, as she let Kasumi pull her up onto her feet. "It's... not as bad as I thought." She winced slightly as she took her first step, stopping in front of the mirror. "Is this what being tall feels like?" She laughed, looking herself up and down.

Kasumi laughed along with her. "Poor James, the cutie doesn't stand a chance."

"You think?" Shepard bit her lip. The heels were uncomfortable, but they looked so good! Lots of women wore them all the time, and besides, she was a soldier, if she could handle being pelted with bullets, she ought to be able to handle some uncomfortable footwear. She nodded at Kasumi, breaking into a grin. "Well, why the hell not? Go big or go home, right?"

After letting the thief do her makeup, Shepard let her talk her into wearing her hair down, for once, styling it in loose ringlets that hung down her back in shiny waves.

"You must be really serious about this guy." Kasumi observed when they were finished, admiring her handiwork.

"Maybe I am." She shrugged, smiling with genuine glee. "Thanks for helping me out. I haven't been on a date in so long... I wouldn't even know what to do with myself." She chuckled softly, brushing a curl out of her face.

"Don't mention it, Shep. Playing dress-up with you is the most fun I've had since the gang broke up." She smirked, and they both glanced up at the chime of the door, announcing a guest. "Sounds like lover boy's here... I'll make myself scarce." And with a flurry of sparks preceding the activation of her tactical cloak, she was gone. Shepard rolled her eyes at the theatrics.

"Hey, Lola!" James called out, his voice carrying from the lower level.

Shepard smiled, checking herself out in the mirror once more. "I'm coming," she called back, strolling out of her bedroom and making her way down the stairs.

Waiting for her at the bottom, James' jaw dropped to the floor when he looked up and saw her. After a moment of gaping, he whistled appreciatively. "Damn, Lola. You really know how to make a man sit up and take notice when you want to." He didn't even try to hide the way his eyes trailed slowly up the curve of her exposed leg, to the sway of her hips before finally meeting her gaze as she neared the bottom of the stairs. He looked good, too, wearing his dress blues. It even looked like he had shaved for the evening, and Shepard definitely approved.

"About time, too-" Shepard's smile faltered as she missed a step, her too-high heel slipping out from under her, she gasped with surprise and squeezed her eyes shut as she braced for the impact of the floor, only to be pleasantly surprised when it never came. Instead, she opened her eyes to see the lieutenant's face over hers, his thick arms wrapped around her, steadying her.

"You okay?" He asked, straightening her up and he setting her back on her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fi-" she started to say, right before she put weight on her foot and wound up wincing and clutching at his shirt, lest she go down again. "No, nope, I'm not okay. Not okay." She leaned against him, swearing as she realized she couldn't put weight on her ankle. "I might've twisted my ankle."

Without missing a beat, James scooped her up easily, crossing to the couch, he set her down gingerly, kneeling in front of her. He slipped her shoe off, checking out her injured foot. "I think it's just a sprain." He told her after a minute, carefully moving her foot. Shepard sank back against the couch, frowning.

"I'm sorry, James." She pouted, and he looked up at her.

"For what?"

"I ruined our date..."

He grinned up at her. "Who says it's ruined?" He tilted his head at her.

"I can't walk." She deadpanned at him. "So we can't exactly go out..."

"Okay, so we're staying in. No big deal, I'll make you dinner." He winked at her, before he leaned forward to pull her over his shoulder, ignoring her slight noise of protest, he carried her into the kitchen. "First, we should get some ice on that ankle, though." He set her down on one of the stools, before he peeled off his outer jacket, getting more comfortable since they were staying in. Shepard smiled as he pulled a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, passing it to her before he started digging around in the fridge for something to cook.

"We can order in, you don't have to cook." She told him apologetically, aware that her fridge was anything but well-stocked.

"I don't have to, but you know you want me to." He grinned in that cocky way of his. "Only woman I know willing to injure herself just so she can spend an evening in with me." He winked playfully.

"Hey! I did not," she rose to the bait, flicking a stray curl back from her face. "You think I went to all this effort to barely make it down the stairs?" She gestured to her dress, and James glanced up from whatever he had been chopping to check her out again.

"Mmm mhm mmm, I hope so." He lifted his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she blushed. "Dios, what'd you know, she can blush!"

Having to make do with military rations seemed to have made James something of an expert at putting together seemingly disparate ingredients into delicious meals, Shepard was quickly coming to realize. Somehow, he managed to slap together a meal that would make any mess officer proud, and over the course of the meal Shepard found her disappointment at her own clumsiness waning.

After dinner, they curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace, and Shepard watched while James wrapped her ankle up with a tensor bandage. "You're pretty good at that."

"Spend enough time at the gym, you learn all sorts of stuff." He shrugged, his hands surprisingly gentle despite the callouses she could feel brushing her skin. "I still haven't quite worked out why you'd put yourself through the hell of wearing those things. They sure as hell don't look comfortable."

"They aren't." She confirmed, smiling. "And they're certainly more dangerous than I gave them credit for, but at least they look good."

"Lola, trust me, you do not need some shoes to make you look good." He teased, trailing a hand up her calf affectionately, brown eyes lifting to meet hers.

"Maybe not... but I wanted to feel sexy. Like, y'know... a girl." She glanced away, staring into the fire wistfully. James didn't quite understand, so he seized her by her good ankle, pulling her onto his lap with a squeak of surprise.

"You saying you don't usually feel like a girl?" He wrapped his arms around her. "Cause you sure feel all woman to me. Definitely sexy."

Shepard smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning down to brush her lips over his. She paused right before she kissed him, though, glancing around warily.

"Kasumi, you better have left already, because I swear if you're recording anything and it ends up on the extranet, there will be nowhere in this galaxy that will be safe for you." She felt kind of dumb, talking to the air, and James looked around with confusion, until a voice from the balcony answered.

"What about the one where you almost fell on your face, but prince charming here caught you? Because I may have already posted that one, and it may already have over a million hits."

Shepard sighed. "Get. Out."

* * *

**A/N:** For the purpose of this fic, we are pretending that the party at Shepard's place was not, in fact, a last hurrah, and that they are still on the Citadel. Because a date on the Normandy would be awkward at best. Even more awkward than this, probably. Review please, concrit welcome!


End file.
